


The Blood of the Convent

by DroughtofApathy



Series: A Thousand Lifetimes [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Convent, F/F, Internalized Homophobia, Nuns falling in love with each other, Period-Typical Homophobia, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 20:11:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17567180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DroughtofApathy/pseuds/DroughtofApathy
Summary: The MacLean family didn't birth homosexuals. Mary Magdalene knew this almost better than she knew her own name. So, when she was caught with another girl, her family spirited her away to a nunnery where she could beg God's forgiveness. She never saw them again. Years later she'd almost managed to convince herself she could be normal. Until, that was, Sister Nazarene came to stay.





	The Blood of the Convent

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: becoming a fully fledged nun takes a really long time. You can't just waltz into a place and become one.

The MacLean family didn't birth homosexuals. Mary Magdalene knew this almost better than she knew her own name. Her father and mother had screamed it enough, and when their rants and praying didn’t work, they considered other options. Her mother’s sister – Mary Magdalene’s favorite aunt, which made the betrayal even worse – suggested they send her away for a while. To a place that could cure her. But the MacLean family did not birth homosexuals. Sending their daughter to that camp would be admitting it, and the humiliation would be too much. Instead, they sent her there.

She never heard from them again. Not once as she went through eight months of the testing period. Or the year and a half of the postulancy. They never knew she tried her hardest and received the habit of the order and went into the period of the novitiate.

The fully-fledged nuns had their doubts about the headstrong young woman, but Mary Magdalene knew that though her family would never acknowledge her in here, they’d hunt her down out there. The MacLean family didn’t birth homosexuals. So, she devoted herself to God. She studied, memorizing the entire Old Testament and most of the New, and prayed more than she’d ever prayed in her life. And even if she’d never make her family proud, she impressed the nuns, and it was enough for her.

She became Sister Mary Magdalene, because why disturb a perfectly sound name? She devoted her life to God, braided back her red hair and tucked it into her veil and coif, and never once did she doubt her faith. Because despite everything, she never stopped believing in God. And the MacLean family didn’t birth homosexuals. So that made her Sister Mary Magdalene, a homosexual who cloistered her desires in habits and cinctures. She was wrong. A sin.

Over four years of living as an almost-nun plus the additional three with her temporary vows, and she’d thought she successfully shoved those feelings aside. She accepted she was a homosexual, but she did not accept she had to act on it. Her family abandoned her because of this. She would not be forced out of her new family and home for the same reason.

But the convent made a horrible mistake. Sister Mary Magdalene would never admit to thinking that, of course. The Lord made no mistakes. They couldn’t have known. It must have been a test. Her God must have been testing her. Why else would she have been assigned a room with a woman no older than herself, and so startlingly pretty.

But utterly appalling. Oh, to the rest of the convent, she presented as the model nun. She could quote scripture better than anyone Mary Magdalene knew. Led prayers with undoubtable devotion. Sang hymns to God in a breathtaking alto voice surprisingly low for her small stature. But the moment their bedroom door closed for the night, Sister Nazarene transformed into a scathingly critical woman who swore under her breath, questioned the abbess’s actions, and snuck in more than a few contraband items. Honestly, Mary Magdalene didn’t know how the hell she did it.

At first, Mary Magdalene thought this woman had to be a trap. A trick of some kind designed to catch her or something. Sister Nazarene couldn’t possibly be so…so _blasphemous_ and be a nun. No nun would ever…

But then, it didn’t mean nuns didn’t think exactly what Nazarene said. Granted she said it quietly and behind closed doors, but still in front of someone else. In front of another nun who could very well report that sort of talk to the abbess.

And at first, Mary Magdalene thought she had to report it. This had to be her test. But after Mary Magdalene overheard, quite by accident, the abbess harshly scolding Nazarene about her behaviors, she learned it was quite the opposite. Or, she assumed at least.

She assumed they’d placed her with Nazarene in the hopes that their close age would mean Nazarene would relate more to her, and thus Mary Magdalene’s good behavior would rub off on her. Well, if that was the case, Mary Magdalene didn’t think she’d be too successful. Sister Nazarene seemed like the type of woman to say as she pleased as long as she was alone, or almost alone as it turned out.

Mary Magdalene didn’t tell. After hours of days with no discourse or deviation from a routine, her nights brought something to look forward to. Even if it did scandalize her more than anything.

After a few nights of this, Mary Magdalene soon figured out just why Sister Nazarene chose to voice her thoughts aloud rather than keep them to herself. She _wanted_ someone to argue with. Someone to maybe give her an answer to her questions and doubts. And she couldn’t get that anywhere else.

“It is not our place to question our God,” Mary Magdalene insisted.

“Rules, regulations, hypocrisy. Why?” Nazarene asked. “Why no meats on Fridays, or why do we judge here on Earth if our sins will be tried by that higher power?” Mary Magdalene stared in shock. Quickly, though, she recovered, quoting scripture, and citing reasons. Nazarene smiled slowly. It had been so long since someone else had engaged. And as they went back and forth, Mary Magdalene grew more and more agitated.

“You cannot-” Mary Magdalene stopped, realizing she’d raised her voice slightly. She cleared her throat and composed herself. She’d already let herself indulge too much tonight. Instead, she turned her back and began to undress for bed.

Sister Mary Magdalene willed her flushed face to recede. She simply could not let that other woman get to her. And when Mary Magdalene willed something, it happened. She pulled her long nightdress over her head and removed her wimple.

“For a woman so devout,” Nazarene commented pleasantly. “It strikes me as strange you would cling to your vanity of all things. Your hair, Sister Mary Magdalene. Why have you not shorn it like the others?”

Mary Magdalene turned, fidgeting with the end of her thick braid. It wasn’t vanity. It just wasn’t. Nazarene just looked at her, raising an eyebrow. The taller woman sighed. No, it wasn’t vanity, but it was petty. Without taking her eyes off of the dark red braid, she found herself explaining. She didn’t know why she thought Nazarene had any right to know, but the words still came.

The MacLean family, she said, wanted nothing to do with their oldest daughter. She’d been a bit of a disappointment…more than a bit. But the MacLean family was known for its lovely red hair.

“They can deny me all they want, but they can’t take this,” Mary Magdalene smiled slightly, playing with the bit of string that held the braid together. Nazarene understood that more than she knew. Wordlessly, she removed her own wimple, letting her long black hair fall down her back. Mary Magdalene stared. With habits and wimples, Nazarene looked pretty. Wearing just a simple nightgown with her hair down, she looked beautiful. Oh, the Lord was most certainly testing her after all.

Nazarene reached beneath her pillow and pulled out a hairbrush and a comb. Those were most definitely contraband items. She tossed them to Mary Magdalene who caught them out of reflex. She knew this was her way of saying she bore no judgement against Mary Magdalene’s petty, petty reasoning.

She supposed that was the night they formed a sort of bond between them. In a convent where most women had been cloistered away since before the war, having someone so close to her own age made things easier.

By day, Mary Magdalene presented herself as the perfect servant of God. Nazarene just got surlier, but nothing ever came of it. Nothing more than a few conversations with the abbess. Mary Magdalene couldn’t quite understand why that would happen, but she had a hunch. A hunch she kept wisely to herself.

They played card games by the light of the moon, and whispered their doubts across the small room. Now that Nazarene knew Mary Magdalene, she didn’t go looking for arguments. That’s not what she wanted. She just wanted someone to help figure it all out with her. Because everyone else seemed so sure in this place. And Nazarene wasn’t. And neither was Mary Magdalene. But then, they weren’t supposed to be.

She remembered the first month into their rooming together. She’d woken in the middle of the night feeling off. The moment she shifted, she knew why. The blood stood out starkly on the crisp white sheets and nightgown. Most of the others didn’t have to suffer through this being beyond the childbearing age.

She groaned, burying her face in her hands. Blood like this was unclean. She couldn’t…couldn’t just toss the sheets in the laundry and contaminate the rest of the linens.

“Sister Mary Magdalene,” Nazarene whispered. “Are you okay?” Mary Magdalene sighed sharply. But she needed her help.

Nazarene lit a candle, creeping closer. She winced sympathetically at the bloodied clothes. Reaching under a loose floorboard, she offered Mary Magdalene a pad from the outside world. But Mary Magdalene shook her head, knowing someone might notice or hear the quiet rustling. Nazarene rolled her eyes, but tossed it back into the hole.

“I don’t have a clean nightgown,” Mary Magdalene whispered. She sniffed, her abdomen already cramping something horrible. Nazarene got up and headed for the door. “Wait, you can’t!” But Nazarene just slipped out the door to the laundry room. She knew the other woman’s nightgown would be down there, and clean.

By the time she got back, Mary Magdalene was sitting on the floor on a pile of soiled sheets, delicately holding her stained nightgown away from her body.

“Here, take those things off, I’ve got water and hydrogen peroxide. They’ll be clean before you know it,” Mary Magdalene nodded, standing. She looked anxiously at Nazarene until the other woman nodded and turned politely away.

Even with Nazarene’s back to her, Mary Magdalene still blushed furiously. She’d never been fully naked in the room before, but with both her underwear and nightdress ruined she had to. But as quickly as she could, she redressed.

“Thank you,” Mary Magdalene said, turning back. Nazarene nodded, already scrubbing at the sheets. She told Mary Magdalene to get some sleep in her bed for now. And if she wanted, she had something for the pain. But stubbornly, the taller woman declined the medication, simply curling up on the foot of the other bed.

“Usually I just deal with the pain myself,” Nazarene said. “But I know Sister Ruth gets horrible cramps that completely debilitate her. I keep something on hand for her just in case. You’re welcome to it whenever you like if it gets unbearable. Or anything else in my little trove of treasures.”

“Why are you a nun?” Mary Magdalene asked, hugging her stomach. Nazarene shrugged, moving on to the nightgown.

Reluctantly, she told Mary Magdalene she hadn’t had a choice. Regardless of her faith, she never wanted to devote her life to the life of a nun. She’d wanted, she admitted ruefully, to be someone. A teacher, a doctor – as impossible as that sounded – or even a singer. Anything but a nun. But in her oh so wild youth, she did something that her family couldn’t live with, and they sent her here.

“But, if you didn’t want to be a nun…” Mary Magdalene trailed off.

“How did I manage to stay?” Nazarene finished for her. “Well, my mother’s sister makes sure I stay on. You know her as the abbess.” Mary Magdalene gasped, and Nazarene laughed. She reached for the underwear, but the other woman quickly snatched them away. Blushing hotly, she murmured that she could take care of that. Something about Nazarene scrubbing at her underthings made her wildly uncomfortable.

Nazarene shrugged. It wasn’t, she argued, much different than washing them down at the laundry room. She knew it was, of course. So very different.

The news that Nazarene was related to the abbess made sense to Mary Magdalene. The revelation that they had more in common than she thought, gave her a pause. Well, she supposed she had no right to judge. Because it was both ungodly and none of her business.

And then came the fast. In those days, fasting lasted all forty days for everyone over the age of fourteen. But, Mary Magdalene though, after ten days of fasting, they hadn’t taken into account naturally tiny women when they made that rule.

Quietly, Mary Magdalene tried to insist Nazarene request a waive on the fast. Or at least limit herself. The small woman probably weighted no more than thirty-seven kilograms, and she couldn’t possibly withstand this. Not forty days of starvation.

But Nazarene insisted she’d be fine. This was important to her, and she would not use her aunt to wheedle her way out of it. Mary Magdalene winced. So that was it. Nazarene got away with so much that the others had begun to talk. She had something to prove, and Mary Magdalene knew just how stubborn she could be.

But on the twelfth day, after Nazarene fainted during morning mass, Mary Magdalene knew she’d been right. But seeing her friend lying on the floor like that drove all thoughts of being right from her mind.

“Nazarene,” she gasped quietly, hurrying to her side. “Mother Abbess, please. If I may. It’s the fast. She’s so small.” The abbess put a hand up to silence her. Nazarene was to be excused from the rest of the fast and taken to her room to recuperate.

“Sister Mary Magdalene,” the abbess said, worry laced in her voice. “Please, would you look after Sister Nazarene? You will be excused from all other activities.” Mary Magdalene nodded immediately, easily lifting the smaller woman in her arms.

She hurried through the long halls, ignoring the stares and whispers. Nazarene shivered in her arms, but already had started sweating through her habit.

“This is more than just because of the fast,” Mary Magdalene murmured to herself. She managed to get Nazarene undressed, politely looking away as she wrapped her in blankets. One of the other nuns, Sister Ruth, brought two plates of food, one significantly more filled than the other.

But Mary Magdalene barely managed to get Nazarene eat more than she had been for fast despite her insistence. Well, perhaps it was for the best. After not eating much for so long, Nazarene’s stomach might not have been able to handle more. Mary Magdalene didn’t eat the extra food either.

“I’m so cold,” Nazarene said between coughs, teeth chattering. Mary Magdalene took the blankets from her own bed, but it didn’t help nearly enough. She tried everything she could think of. A memory from her childhood surfaced. Her cousin had similar symptoms when they were young. Cough, fever, chills. It had lasted a few weeks, but left him weak and vulnerable.

The next day she sent for a doctor. Men weren’t allowed in the convent except in emergencies, but this constituted as an emergency as far as Mary Magdalene was concerned. Because she knew, she just knew, Nazarene had pneumonia. And even if it wasn’t that, it was something just as horrid.

Mary Magdalene turned out to be right. Pneumonia brought on by an already weakened immune system. Nazarene’s chances were good, it not being a completely fatal disease. But Mary Magdalene worried and prayed. The woman was just so small. She didn’t know how it might turn out. But she stayed by her side even as the doctor prescribed bloodletting to drain the illness.

Nazarene raised a fuss, claiming that the practice was nothing but smoke and magic. But in the end, she relented. The doctor cut into her heel, draining nearly a cup of blood on an already weakened and dizzy body. Nazarene didn’t cry or struggle, but she clenched Mary Magdalene’s hand something fierce. She watched the blood drain, fascinated. Mary Magdalene had to look away, feeling slightly queasy herself.

“Don’t ever let that man in here again,” Nazarene said emotionlessly the moment he left. Mary Magdalene nodded, carefully wrapping her heel in bandages. Nazarene twitched, wincing. She propped herself up on her elbows, shaking. Mary Magdalene eased her back down carefully.

“You should sleep,” Mary Magdalene said, stroking her forehead with a wet cloth. “Please. Here, drink a bit of water and sleep. You’ll feel better soon.” Nazarene didn’t argue, instead nodding as her head spun. She slept through the entire rest of the day. Mary Magdalene learned one didn’t need to be awake to cough up blood.

Mary Magdalene didn’t sleep a wink that night, terrified Nazarene would choke to death or hurt herself. Instead, she curled up in a hard-back chair far too small for her long frame and kept watch. She kept Nazarene on her side to keep her from choking on her own blood or saliva, and made sure she was warm enough.

She remembered how her aunt had used her own body heat to keep her cousin warm. But she couldn’t do that. Not with Nazarene a grown woman and asleep. Not without permission. And certain not without compromising herself. She’d been so, so good. And the MacLean family did not birth homosexuals. Not practicing ones. Just ones they shoved out of the public eye.

“Please,” Nazarene said, violently shaking from the chills. “I’m so cold. So, so cold. Please.” Shakily, Mary Magdalene told her about her aunt. And what she’d done for her cousin. Nazarene nodded, struggling to move over. Mary Magdalene shook her head, climbing over her and holding her tightly to her front.

It helped. Nazarene started shivering less. And that’s what mattered, Mary Magdalene told herself. She was still good because she was helping someone. Her friend. She was helping, not…not sinning. There was no sin in this.

Two nights of cuddling later, the fever broke. Three nights after that, the chills receded. And finally, the hacking went down to just a slight cough. Mary Magdalene had never felt more relieved in her life, and without thinking she wrapped her arms around the small woman, burying her face in Nazarene’s neck.

“I’m fine,” Nazarene said, voice weak. “Sweetie, I’m okay. Thanks to you.” But Mary Magdalene shook her head. It just wasn’t her time yet. The Lord wasn’t ready to call her home. Nazarene scoffed. God may or may not have been involved, but a certain virgin mother namesake certainly was. Mary Magdalene blushed, looking down and smiling.

Shakily, Nazarene sat up, gathering her hair off the nape of her neck. She still felt horribly lightheaded, but was in desperate need of a bath of some sort. Mary Magdalene nodded, standing. She went to go find a basin and some hot water. The last thing they needed was for Nazarene to catch it again by bathing in frigid water.

She and Sister Ruth dragged a tub in, half full of warmed water. Nazarene shakily stood, nearly collapsing under her own weight.

“Sit,” Mary Magdalene said. “You’ll hurt yourself. Here, let me.” Carefully averting her eyes, she helped Nazarene out of her nightgown. She hesitated over the waistband of Nazarene’s underwear until Nazarene laughed, taking pity on her and managing it herself.

“You can look,” Nazarene said. “I think we’re past modesty by now. Besides, I don’t know if I can do it myself.” Mary Magdalene nodded. She turned her head back, but still kept her eyes downcast. The smaller woman weighted nothing at all, and she easily lifted her into the tub.

Why? Why was the Lord testing her so? Bathing the woman she’d come to- no, no. Mary Magdalene steeled herself, diligently washing the convalescing woman. How could she possibly be thinking of such things when Nazarene had been so sick? Gosh, how horrible of a woman must Mary Magdalene be to want her at a time like this?

“Are you okay?” Nazarene murmured, eyes half closed. Mary Magdalene nodded sharply. She was not looking. She was _not_ thinking of how much she wanted Nazarene. How she’d been terrified all those nights. Not simply because Nazarene was her friend, but because she was so much more.  No. Not another nun at a convent in a house of God. How sick could she be?

She kept gently scrubbing, combing out Nazarene’s long hair. It was no different from before. Before she came here, before her parents decided she wasn’t worth the effort. She just had to ignore it like with Alice.

And that’s what she did. She ignored it. She lasted six days. Six days for Nazarene to fully recover. It had been a long two weeks and they still had another eleven days until Lent ended. Nazarene was excused from it all, out of danger but still so weak

But maybe, she thought with a touch of hysteria, maybe she could have these feelings but simply pray. Pray and atone and God would forgive. Nazarene didn’t question why Mary Magdalene started saying Hail Mary’s over and over before bed in addition to her prayers. Nazarene never did question her about these things. Sometimes, Mary Magdalene wished she did.

“Sister Mary Magdalene,” Nazarene teased, late one night. She’d recovered remarkably well, the color returning to her cheeks and everything. “I’ve wanted to give you something to thank you for all that you’ve done for me.”

Mary Magdalene sighed indulgently. Nazarene kept thanking her despite her constant refusal. She’d just been doing God’s work. But that didn’t stop Nazarene from going out of her way to sneak in a little gift for them to share.

“Nazarene!” Mary Magdalene hisses, seeing the bottle. The absolute last thing she’d thought Nazarene would ever sneak in was alcohol. Surely this had to cross some sort of line. But Nazarene just smirked, unscrewing the small bottle, and offering it over to the other woman.

Mary Magdalene stared at the amber liquid for a long moment. Then, looking around as though the abbess would pop up from under the bed, she tipped it back. Giggling slightly, she handed the bottle back to Nazarene who wasted no time taking a swig.

“I wasn’t quite sure you’d have it in you, Sister Mary Magdalene,” Nazarene said, sitting down on the bed next to the other woman. Mary Magdalene took another drink without hesitation this time. She was Scottish, after all. And them Scots loved their liquor.

With a wry smile, Mary Magdalene commented that she believed Nazarene had nothing on her when it came to this. Nazarene didn’t even try to argue, knowing when to pick her battles. And out-drinking a Scottish nun more than a head taller than her did not seem like a fair fight. Nevertheless, she took another drink.

They finished the bottle, despite common sense telling them to make it last. Well, it wasn’t a particularly large bottle in their defense, and if it hadn’t been so long since Mary Magdalene had had a drop of spirits, she could have finished it off herself with little issue.

With the bottle empty, both women were definitely feeling it. Stretching, Nazarene curled up on top of Mary Magdalene’s stomach. Everything felt warm and smoothed over. Mary Magdalene sighed, smiling as she pulled the smaller woman closer.

“Mmm, you’re so pretty,” Mary Magdalene giggled, playing with Nazarene’s hair. “Ugh, why do you make it so hard?” Nazarene twisted, squinting at the other woman in confusion. She would never have guessed Mary Magdalene would be a giddy type of drunk.

Mary Magdalene pouted. Slightly petulant, she dramatically exclaimed that Nazarene knew very well what she meant. Always so contrary, and vibrant, and _pretty_.

“But I can’t think that,” Mary Magdalene said, a slight whine in her voice. “You’re just God testing me. Or maybe the Devil. I don’t know anymore. But I’ve been good. Really. But you’re just so pretty.”

Nazarene had consumed a good third of the bottle, more than enough to sufficiently impair her judgement and addle her mind. She struggled to comprehend just what Mary Magdalene was saying. Struggling to sit up, she looked the intoxicated woman in the eye, trying to make sense of it. But Mary Magdalene just kept murmuring about sin and unnatural and how pretty she thought Nazarene was. Oh. Oh, that was it.

“Mary Magdalene,” Nazarene said, pulling them both upright. “Honey, do you have feelings for me? Is that what all this talk about sin is?” Mary Magdalene looked startled, then horrified. Without warning the redhead burst into tears, inching away from the object of affections. Nazarene shook her head, touching her arm. Mary Magdalene flinched back.

“It’s wrong,” she whispered, sniffling. “I can’t be feeling like this. Please, please. I’m sorry, Nazarene. I’m so sorry. Please, I can be good. Don’t tell the abbess; she’ll just throw me out, and I have nowhere to go.”

Nazarene’s heart went out to the distraught nun. She pulled her close, her small frame hugging the taller woman. But Mary Magdalene pushed away, panic in her eyes. Her voice borderline hysterical, she said that she’d sinned, and God could never forgive her if she gave in. She’d been so good these past several years.

“You are _not_ wrong, Mary Magdalene,” Nazarene said, cupping Mary Magdalene’s cheek and forcing her to make eye contact. “These thoughts are not wrong or unnatural. Look at me, honey. I have those feelings too, and it doesn’t mean we’re sinners because of that. We are all sinners somehow or other, but not because of this. God does not make mistakes.”

“And the MacLean family doesn’t birth homosexuals,” Mary Magdalene said, hiccupping. “But they did.” Nazarene sighed sadly. She knew this train of thought all too well. Slowly, she pulled Mary Magdalene up and led the weeping woman to her own bed. She patiently explained that they were both very intoxicated, and they needed to have this conversation tomorrow night when they both were in their right minds.

Mary Magdalene nodded, looking devastated. Nazarene knelt next to the bedside. Without breaking eye contact, she pressed her lips to the back of Mary Magdalene’s hand. The redhead whimpered, but she smiled.

And with every ounce of self-control Nazarene possessed, she tucked herself into her own bed. And prayed to God tomorrow would bring about some sort of peace for her friend.

In a way, it did. Mary Magdalene woke, sober, but with a horrible headache. From across the room, Nazarene gave her a small smile. And the last night’s events all came rushing back. Mary Magdalene shook slightly as she dressed, terrified of what she’d said.

“We’ll talk tonight,” Nazarene said, giving Mary Magdalene what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Remember what I told you.”

Mary Magdalene returned to their room that night with a set plan. She’d blame her behavior on the alcohol. She wasn’t a- and even if she was- it didn’t matter. She had a plan. Nowhere in her plan did she expect to end up the way she did.

She’d cried, again. Begged Nazarene to help. Prayed to God, in fact. But Nazarene had calmly reasoned, and soothed, and been so very wonderful that it just happened. One minute the small woman was stroking her hair, the next, Mary Magdalene was kissing her. And that kiss was every single thing she’d ever wanted in a kiss. Nazarene’s lips didn’t feel rough or hard or try to take any more than Mary Magdalene wanted to give.

They broke apart after a moment. And seeing Nazarene shyly smile at her made all protests die on Mary Magdalene’s tongue. Feeling like this couldn’t possibly have been a sin, Mary Magdalene was sure of it. They talked, leaning against each other and clutching hands. Talked about each other, their feelings, their hopes, and dreams. And then, they kissed some more.

No, nowhere in Mary Magdalene’s plan did she imagine she’d end up with Nazarene sitting astride her thighs, tightly gripping her red curls as they frantically kissed repeatedly and again. But she wouldn’t have wanted it to go any other way.

By day, they were model nuns. Sister Nazarene stopped causing small disruptions or questioning what she knew nuns weren’t supposed to question. The abbess appeared startled at this, but not at all displeased. Perhaps she thought Mary Magdalene was having a good influence on her niece, and leading her down the proper path. She certainly didn’t think it was quite the opposite.

They spent their nights curled up with each other. Nazarene, who could stay up later than Mary Magdalene, always made sure to creep back to her own bed before falling asleep herself. Of course, over time, their nightly activities didn’t stop at just cuddling and kissing.

“I’ve never…” Mary Magdalene blushed, looking down. Nazarene shook her head. She’d never been with anyone either. They didn’t have to, of course, but if they did, she and Mary Magdalene could figure it out together. Mary Magdalene nodded.

Shyly, she reached for the hem of Nazarene’s long nightdress. Nazarene nodded encouragingly as she raised her arms. She took the nightgown from Mary Magdalene’s hands, tossing it haphazardly to the foot of the bed. Mary Magdalene gasped, blushing as she took in Nazarene’s nearly nude body. She’d seen glimpses as the other woman changed each day, and much more the day she’d helped her bathe after recovering from pneumonia, but it hadn’t prepared her for this glorious sight before her. She swallowed thickly, raising her hand before shyly withdrawing.

Nazarene nodded encouragingly. She took Mary Magdalene’s hand in hers, drawing it to her breast. They both gasped, Nazarene trembling. Mary Magdalene experimentally ran her thumb over a brown nipple, marveling at how it stiffened under her touch. Admittedly, she lost herself for a few minutes, touching and cupping a small breast.

“Perfect,” Mary Magdalene murmured. The Lord must have been so pleased with this creation of his. Nazarene’s breast cane to less than a handful, and Mary Magdalene thought they had to be the prettiest in the world.

Nazarene purred under Mary Magdalene’s clumsy but well-intentioned fumbling. She tilted her head forward, capturing her lover’s lips with her own. She could feel Mary Magdalene shaking with anticipation. Asking for permission, Nazarene reached for her dress. Mary Magdalene nodded, looking away. She flushed hotly as Nazarene tossed it aside, covering her breasts with her hands.

“We can stop,” Nazarene said quietly. But Mary Magdalene shook her head. With a deep breath, she moved her hands, straightening her spine ever so slightly. Nazarene started off the same way, tracing Mary Magdalene’s nipple with her fingers. Mary Magdalene moaned softly, and her eyelids fluttered. But when Nazarene bent her head and took one of Mary Magdalene’s nipple in her mouth, her eyes flew open again She had to clamp her hand over her mouth to muffle her yelp.

She felt a tightening in her lower abdomen, and a strange feeling between her legs. Mary Magdalene squirmed, clutching at Nazarene’s hand. She heard herself pleading for more, but she honestly didn’t know quite what it was she wanted.

Nazarene nodded, hesitating at the waistband of Mary Magdalene’s soft white underwear. Mary Magdalene lifted her hips, shifting. She felt exposed and open, but Nazarene had never made her feel anything but safe and secure. Slowly, she opened her legs, managing to keep her eyes on Nazarene’s face.

“Please,” she said. Nazarene swallowed, biting at her lip. With trembling fingers, she traced Mary Magdalene’s womanhood. Mary Magdalene gasped, jerking. Nazarene pulled away with wide eyes. Mary Magdalene took a breath to compose herself. Then, she took Nazarene’s hand, drawing it to her nether parts. They both gasped again.

Nazarene took time to just explore, running her fingers through the dark red hair, soft and so much different than her own coarse texture. She spread Mary Magdalene apart, blinking at the virgin flesh. The pink skin glistened with moisture, and Nazarene scooped up a bit with her index finger. Reassuring Mary Magdalene that this was supposed to happen, she went back to exploring.

Nazarene ran her finger up the length of her womanhood. Mary Magdalene cried out quietly when Nazarene brushed over a small area towards the top.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Nazarene asked, pulling away. Mary Magdalene shook her head, grabbing her hand and yanking it back where it was.

“Please,” she gasped. “Please I-” she swallowed, blushing even brighter. But Nazarene seemed to understand. She moved her hand, applying pressure to a hardened nub. Mary Magdalene covered her mouth once more, keening. Nazarene eased her back onto the bed, rubbing small circles into the area. Mary Magdalene jerked, opening her legs wider.

She’d never felt so much pleasure before. How, she wondered in awe, could one single spot on her body give her so much joy. She bucked her hips upwards, throwing her head back. Nazarene moved awkwardly, but she grew surer by the second. Mary Magdalene shuddered, her breathing labored beneath her hand.

“Yes, yes,” Mary Magdalene moaned, hand falling away. The feeling kept building and building, and she had no idea what was going to happen next. Then, Nazarene moved her fingers just so, and Mary Magdalene was crying out, her entire body convulsing. She bit down on her fist to muffle her desperate pants as she sagged against the bed.

“I- I- oh…” Mary Magdalene smiled, utterly relaxed. Nazarene mirrored her smile after realizing what Mary Magdalene had just experienced. The redhead, pulled Nazarene flush up against her. She murmured something unintelligible, but Nazarene heard something about taking care of her in a moment.

“You just sleep, my love,” Nazarene whispered, curling into her side. “Your eyelids are already drooping, so we can finish this another time. Whenever you want.” Mary Magdalene nodded weakly, falling asleep. She’d never felt so wonderful in her life.

But as she woke to a loud gasp and the sound of beads hitting the floor, the peace of last night fell away. Mary Magdalene’s eyes shot open, and she felt as though someone had thrown a bucket of icy water on her. She sat up, instinctively pulling the sheet up to her neck. Next to her, Nazarene sat with the blanket pressed to her chest, horrified at the sight of the abbess. The sight of her aunt.

“Nazarene,” the abbess said, voice filled with anger, confusion, horror. But most of all, disappointment.

“Please,” Nazarene said, curling up on herself. She sounded so very small in that moment. “It wasn’t…it wasn’t Mary Magdalene. Please, Aunt Sarai. I- I love her, and we-” She looked helplessly at Mary Magdalene who sat frozen in shock. The abbess, straightened her back, breathing out sharply.

“Get dressed, both of you,” she ordered. “And you. Sister Nazarene. I’ve overlooked many things in your time here because you are of my flesh and blood. But my sister would be _ashamed_ of what you’ve done. How you’ve damned yourself and this poor girl next to you. Please, I beg of you both. Put this…this ridiculous infatuation aside, and get down on your knees, girl. Pray to God he will forgive this. If you ask for forgiveness, and never _ever_ think of this again, maybe God will forgive.” Nazarene wiped at the tears on her face. She glanced at Mary Magdalene who still hadn’t moved.

“I-” She clutched at the blanket, barely able to breathe. “I’m sorry, Aunt Sarai. But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend I’m not- that I’m not a homosexual any more. I know I can’t stay any longer. I’m sorry.” The abbess looked at her in disappointment. She didn’t appear to relish her decision at all.

“Pack your things.” The abbess turned, walking out. Nazarene sniffed, tossing the blanket aside. Still shaking violently, she started dressing, pulling civilian clothing on.

Speaking rapidly, with little coherence, she apologized for everything. For not going back to her own bed. For not waking them up on time.

“But I stand by what I said,” Nazarene said, turning to face her. “I love you, Mary Magdalene. And I want for you to come with me so badly. But…I understand if you don’t.” Mary Magdalene looked away, tears rolling down her cheeks. But she couldn’t go. She just couldn’t. Nazarene nodded in understanding. She dejectedly walked to the door, turning around just before leaving.

“I’ll- I’ll come back. In a few months. If, um, if you change your mind…” She tried to smile, ended up wincing instead. With one last nod, she walked out the door, and out of the abbey completely.

Mary Magdalene stared at the door in shock. A sob escaped her throat as she felt her chest squeeze. She couldn’t breathe as panic and shame welled up inside of her. She felt sick, dizzy.

Hours later, the abbess came back to find Mary Magdalene had only moved to pull her nightdress on over her head. The moment she walked back in, Mary Magdalene scrambled off the bed, falling to her knees at the abbess’s feet with tears in her eyes.

“Forgive me, please. I have sinned. I- I’ve condemned myself to eternal damnation. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please forgive me. Please, I’ve been so good. I’ve tried, and tried, and I was just…it was just a weak moment. Yes, yes, I admit I’m…that I’m not normal, but I promise I’ve never done anything before. I want to be good, and I’m so afraid. I’m so, so afraid, and I don’t know what to do. Please, believe me, Reverend Mother. I don’t want to be this way! I don’t, I swear!” She clutched at the hem of the abbess’s robes, violently shaking.

The abbess knelt down next to her, taking her hands. And together they prayed. They prayed, and begged God for forgiveness. Hysterical, Mary Magdalene could barely get the words out.

For better or for worse, the abbess confined her to her bedroom for three days. She’d been unable to stop sobbing that night, literally unable to take a breath at some points. Alone, she could slowly calm down and come back to herself. And she did, slowly but surely. It hurt. It hurt so much just to think of Nazarene at all. The resignation in her voice when she asked Mary Magdalene to run away with her.

During the day, she grappled with her shame and guilt over what she’d done. Over what they’d done. But when night fell, all of that seemed to fall away, and her only shame and guilt was over how she’d stayed. They could have run and run and been so very happy together. But her own fear kept her frozen in place. She’d never been happier lying next to Nazarene. Ever.

When her three days were up, the abbess placed her in a single room. Mary Magdalene did what she was told without complaint, keeping her head down. To her knowledge, none of the other nuns knew what she’d done. What horrible sin she’d committed under the roof of a house of God.

They kept her away from any new nuns, and she knew why. She knew the abbess was doing this to prevent any other…incidents. But it hurt that she’d been deemed untrustworthy. That she might corrupt the young women coming in to devote their lives to God.

Mary Magdalene realized something as time wore on. She _hated_ it at the convent. Absolutely hated it. During her postulancy, and novitiate, and temporary vow period, she’d survived through her devotion to God, and her need to be part of a family. But now, now her family was full of strangers, and women she’d never truly known like her. Like Nazarene. She realized it. The nuns were part of something, yes. A family, maybe even her family. But Nazarene had been something different. Someone she’d loved more than anyone else in her life.

The Reverend Mother saw it, but said nothing as she watched. She wanted to give Sister Mary Magdalene the benefit of the doubt, but the woman’s despondency only grew worse. She tried to hide it, throwing herself into the scripture, the hymns, the sermons. But the abbess saw it.

“Sister Mary Magdalene,” she said, stopping her just outside the chapel doors. She motioned for the younger woman to follow. She did, bowing her head, and keeping silent.

“I would like for you to know,” the abbess said, sitting down behind her desk. “I am speaking to you now as an aunt, not as the Reverend Mother. And I do believe, that for once, this place is not what is best for you.” Mary Magdalene opened her mouth to protest, already terrified. But the abbess put up her hand, and she instantly fell silent.

“My dear, you have been miserable here. Absolutely miserable without…without my niece by your side. You two always were so good together, even I admit that. As the abbess, I cannot condone this. I cannot support your behavior or love. But I am not speaking as that. Now, Mary Magdalene. There-” The abbess stopped, wincing. “There is a library in town. My niece goes each Saturday between three and five p.m. You are what is best for her. Now, go. Go, my dear, and find your happiness. Because it is not here within these walls. Your things have been packed, and there’s enough money to get by for a bit.”

Mary Magdalene took the bags, jaw dropping slightly. Then, she threw her arms around the older woman, crying once more. It seemed it was all she did any more. But not for long. With a huge grin on her face, she turned tail and ran.

Catching the bus just outside the gate, and not bothering to change from her habit, she anxiously rode the half an hour into town. With time to think, she began to feel the weight of what she’d done, of what she’d been handed, bearing down on her shoulders. It had been so many months, and Nazarene hadn’t come back to the convent like she said. What if she- what if she didn’t want Mary Magdalene anymore? But she’d come so far.

Months ago, Nazarene had done something so very brave. And she’d been too cowardly to follow. Now, now it was her turn to make the leap.

And as she walked through those library doors, she knew she wanted nothing more than to leap. There, in the corner, a woman had her back to her. but Mary Magdalene would recognize that long, long braid anywhere. Face splitting into a grin, she ran. Ran to the woman she loved, and together they could finally leap over the edge. Together.

The MacLean family didn’t birth homosexuals, but then, Mary Magdalene wasn’t a MacLean. And oh, did that feel good to finally realize.


End file.
